


tournent les violons

by symphorine



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: M/M, Pining, Slow Build, T rating is for tsukishima's swearing, kuroo is a violonist, musician au, technically ennemies to friends to lovers, usual amounts of sass
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-30
Updated: 2016-12-30
Packaged: 2018-09-13 10:05:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,574
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9118888
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/symphorine/pseuds/symphorine
Summary: "You never told me your name." Kuroo is still looking right at him, waiting, a smug grin on his face."Tsukishima Kei.""Nice to meet you, Tsukki.""Likewise," Tsukishima lies, trying not to grit his teeth too hard at the nickname. "Don't ever call me that again."He only catches a glimpse of the way Kuroo's smile widens at his word, but it's enough to get the feeling he's going to have regrets.





	

**Author's Note:**

> for [@itsthebeard](http://itsthebeard.tumblr.com/) on tumblr
> 
> i had quite a lot of fun writing this one, actually, so thanks for your prompt!

The day Tsukishima meets his new neighbor is probably not said neighbor's best day. Tsukishima would call it an intuition, strongly reinforced by the fact that the guy is currently holding his left little toe and hissing a steady stream of curses, while there's a box on the ground that seems to have purely given up and spat its contents everywhere. Tsukishima has no other choice but to walk right next to his neighbor to access his own apartment, and he does so with his best midly-interested-but-ultimately-couldn't-care-less expression.

(Yamaguchi named it. He didn't have a say in the matter.)

Which means Tsukishima finds himself face to face with the guy, who is suddenly interrupted in his quest to list every swear word he knows, and seemingly has nothing else to say. He's about as tall as Tsukishima, which means Tsukishima is at the perfect height to examine his half-confused, half-sheepish expression, and also to note that the guy is pretty hot, actually, even though he seems to have never heard of the existence of combs.

"Uh. Sorry," the guy apologizes, holding out his hand. "I'm Kuroo Tetsurou, I just moved in."

"I can see that," Tsukishima points out, giving an eloquent look at the mess around them as he shakes Kuroo's hand. "I'd say nice to meet you, but it's the end of the day and you're blocking my way to my door."

His little declaration leaves Kuroo speechless for a moment, and then Tsukishima almost flinches as he barks a laugh.

"Yeah, sorry man," he says between two hiccups, "I'll move my stuff."

Tsukishima scowls, but it seems to make Kuroo want to laugh even more, so he doesn't try to ask what's so funny. "I'd appreciate it."

"You could help, you know, they're not that heavy," Kuroo tells him as he bends down.

"Strangely enough, after seeing the state of the one over there," Tsukishima says, pointing at the scattered books and mugs on the floor behind Kuroo, "I have a very limited trust in their solidity."

Kuroo laughs again, but it's a softer sound, this time. He turns with three boxes stacked on top of another and drops them right against the wall, leaving a path just wide enough for Tsukishima to use.

"Thanks," Tsukishima says drily.

"No problem," Kuroo shrugs. "You never told me your name."

Tsukishima looks for his keys, and only looks up when he has the right one in hand. Kuroo is still looking right at him, waiting, a smug grin on his face. "Tsukishima Kei."

"Nice to meet you, Tsukki."

"Likewise," Tsukishima lies, trying not to grit his teeth too hard at the nickname. "Don't ever call me that again."

He only catches a glimpse of the way Kuroo's smile widens at his word, but it's enough to get the feeling he's going to have regrets.

* * *

He doesn't see him again for a few days, and the sense of impending doom eases a little.

Then the noise starts.

The first time, it's right in the middle of the night, and Tsukishima barely wakes up enough to curse people who are up way too late and too loud before he falls asleep again. He vaguely remembers it in the morning, but there's no more noise by now, so he doesn't pay more attention than that.

Except it happens again the following night.

This time, he's staying up late, staring at his laptop, in hope that his essay will write itself. He's typing the start of his fourth draft when it happens.

It's only a few dissonant notes, at first, almost like someone is just making things fall. Weirdly harmonious sounding things, but still. Tsukishima doesn't really pay attention, trying to figure out a way to write more than a hundred words about the status of merchants in early medieval Japan.

The aggressively high notes definitely _do_ catch his attention, and the barely muffled sound of a trumpet playing in rhythm is the last straw.

"Fucking asshole," he mutters to himself as he shuts his laptop.

He grabs his textbook and his jacket, puts his computer in his bag, and gets out, away from the noise. He wasn't being very productive anyway. Maybe he'll have more luck if he asks Yachi for help.

The day after, he comes home a little after midnight, exhausted and ready to crash on his bed. He barely even remembers to take off his shoes, and once he's lying down on the soft covers, he doesn't really feel like getting up again to undress.

Luckily for him, the very sudden and very loud noise of a tortured violin coming from the other side of his wall brutally pulls him away from any form of sleepiness, and it's with his best curse that he gets changed in his pajamas, and then burrows himself in his bed, desperately trying to drown out the sound.

It stops somewhere around two in the morning, and if he wasn't so tired, he would probably go take his anger out on his neighbor. Instead, he falls asleep right there and then.

"You look like you're going to murder someone," Yamaguchi greets him the following morning.

"Probably because I will."

"Makes sense," he shrugs before sitting next to him. "Your neighbor again?"

Tsukishima sighs and rubs his eyes, willing them to stay open. "Yeah. Not sure if I should push him in the stairs or just destroy his violin."

Yamaguchi hums, arranging his notebook and pens on the table before him. "He could always buy another on, so I suggest you take care of the source of the problem."

Tsukishima can't help but smile a little.

"Thanks for the advice."

"You're welcome. But seriously," Yamaguchi adds, turning toward him. "You should ask him to stop. You look terrible."

"He's never here when I knock on his door," Tsukishima replies, glancing at the door as their professor closes it. "And I don't have the courage to get up in the middle of the night to make him stop."

Yamaguchi nods understandingly and pats him on the arm, before their lecture begins and any thought of Tsukishima's neighbor gets shoved in the back of their brains.

* * *

Despite what he said to Yamaguchi, Tsukishima gives in that same evening. He's trying to read the book they're studying in classic literature and ignore his headache at the same time, when he's interrupted by a truly terrifying sound. If he didn't know better, he'd think someone is trying to set up a haunted house next door.

"Okay, _now_ you're going too far," he mutters, glaring at the wall behind which his neighbor is, apparently, trying to pierce his eardrums.

He resists the urge to cover his ears and drags himself in front of the apartment of the incriminated pseudo-musician. He knocks three times with as much strength as he can muster, and hopes that the asshole will at least have the grace to come open fast, because it's _cold_ in the hallway. The door opens with a creak, and Tsukishima starts to wonder if the flat isn’t simply cursed.

"Yeah?" Kuroo asks, standing in the opening.

He doesn't really look in a better state than how Tsukishima's feeling, with dark circles under his eyes and a two-day scruff darkening his face, but Tsukishima doesn't really give a shit.

"It's one in the morning and I'm trying to study," he says drily.

Kuroo raises and eyebrow. "And?"

"And your violin practice isn't helping." He'd thought that was obvious, but apparently not.

Kuroo's face immediately falls. "Oh. Oh, shit, sorry, they told me it was mostly soundproofed, so I didn't…"

Tsukishima almost takes a step back. Kuroo doesn't look tired anymore, but downright dejected, dragging his hands down his face. Tsukishima's anger dies down faster than he'd thought possible.

"You've heard me all week, huh?" Kuroo seems to realize. "I'm really sorry, man, that won't happen again."

Tsukishima feels awkward, now, standing in the hallway in his pajamas, face to face with a guy who looks like he's giving up on life.

"Thanks," he replies, mostly because he's not sure what else he could say.

There's a few seconds of silence, where neither of them moves, and Tsukishima finally takes in more than just Kuroo's face. He's leaning against the doorway, arms against his chest, like he needs support; wearing clothes that look old and worn, which only contributes to making him look exhausted. Tsukishima doesn't want to feel sorry, he really doesn't, but he can understand. After all, he's still up too, trying to tackle all the homework he's been trying to ignore.

"Why do you even play so late?" he asks instead of leaving, like he should have already.

"I have to practice," Kuroo shrugs, crossing his arms even tighter. "I'm in a small orchestra, so I play with them too, but I've got classes and work for most of the day, so it's not like there's a lot of free time left. I'm guessing your heard the trumpet the other day – that was Bokuto. He plays with me."

His eyes seem more focused, fixed on Tsukishima, and Tsukishima feels strangely naked under that gaze. He doesn't like it.

"Well, I'm going to bed, so good night," he finally declares.

"Night," Kuroo answers. "I'll try to find somewhere else to play. Sorry."

The door closes with a soft click, and Tsukishima is left standing in front of his own, barefoot in the hallway, and feeling like none of what has just happened is real.

It's really time to sleep, he decides.

* * *

Kuroo keeps his word, and the next few nights are blessedly quiet. Tsukishima _is_ satisfied about it, and he tells as much to Yamaguchi, but.

For some reason, his thoughts float in the direction of Kuroo a lot, paradoxically. They haven't talked since that night, and he hasn't heard him play; logically, it should be resolved and stored in a remote corner of his memory. But it _isn't_. And it's starting to be annoying.

He tries to brush it off as best as he can, but it seems like the universe is against him.

"I _told_ you," he says to Hinata, opening the door to the basement. "I'm pretty sure you left it at Kageyama's parents' house."

"It doesn't hurt to check," Hinata replies skipping ahead.

"I could be enjoying my evening in my bed right now," Tsukishima hisses, "but no, you had to come bother me." He's almost shaking from the unnatural cold that reigns down here. He has no idea how Hinata can look at ease with only a T-shirt and a jacket on his back.

Hinata opens his mouth to reply and is abruptly cut off by a strident sound. Tsukishima jumps, almost missing the last step of the stairs.

"What was that?" Hinata asks in a half-strangled voice. "You didn't tell me your basement was haunted!"

"Shut up, of course it's not haunted," Tsukishima mutters, joining him in the dimly lit corridor.

They can hear faint noises coming from the other end of it, in a strangely familiar rhythm, and – oh.

"I know who it is," Tsukishima sighs.

"The ghost of your last victim?"

"For the last time, this isn't haunted! And _w_ _hy_ would I even hide a body here, honestly."

"Nobody would look, if it's haunted," Hinata taunts with a smirk.

Tsukishima elbows him, and they walk straight past his apartment’s allotted storage space to reach the other side, where he knows there's a spacious laundry room.

Sure enough, when he opens it, Kuroo is here, violin in hand, partitions scattered on the laundry machines. He's warmly covered, but his hands are bare, and look red from the cold. He looks up when they enter, startled.

"Oh," he says.

"Hinata, meet Kuroo, my neighbor," Tsukishima declares. "Kuroo, meet Hinata, chronic pain in the ass."

"And friend," Hinata corrects him with a bright smile. "So _you're_ the infamous Kuroo, huh."

Tsukishima immediately realizes his mistake in letting Hinata talk. "Here are my keys," he hurries to say, shoving them into Hinata's chest. "Go check if your shit is there."

"It's a bicycle pump!" Hinata corrects him.

He leaves them alone, though, disappearing in the hallway, and the atmosphere feels suddenly a bit too heavy. There's a lazy grin appearing on Kuroo's face, and Tsukishima wants to wipe it off. Right now.

"Infamous, huh? Talking about me, Tsukki?" he drawls.

He lets his violin hang down his left hand, bow in his right.

"What are you even doing here?" Tsukishima snaps instead of answering. "Who goes into the basement in the middle of the night?"

"I could ask you the same," Kuroo retorts, pointing the bow at him.

"I'm only passing through, not camping here."

"Dude, I'm practicing. Better here than next to you, right?" Kuroo points out.

Tsukishima frowns. "Why do you have to practice so much that you end up in a _basement_ at _two in the morning_?"

Kuroo sighs and slumps against the washing machines, scattering his partitions even further. He delicately sets the violin and bow down, and starts to tug at his right sleeve. Tsukishima stays still, trying not to bury his head between his shoulders the way he's buried his hands in his pockets. He refuses to show that he doesn't feel as assured as he should.

"I broke my hand a few months back, in an accident," Kuroo explains, holding up his right arm. "It's been a bit complicated to relearn everything, so I need the extra practice. Also explains the ungodly noises that I make sometimes," he grimaces.

Tsukishima wonders how he hasn't noticed earlier. The back of Kuroo's hand is almost striped with white lines of scars. Like this, it almost looks like some kind of tattoo, if one ignored the traces of stitches.

"I've had to cancel a few performances already," Kuroo continues, "so I can't really afford to take it slow. At least, usually, nobody hears me here," he shrugs, taking back his hand.

Tsukishima deliberates for a few seconds before he speaks up. "Go back to your room."

"What are you, my dad?" Kuroo mocks.

"No, I mean." Tsukishima sighs and starts again. "You're down here because I told you the noise annoyed me, but you're going to be freezing at this rate." Kuroo looks like he wants to interrupt him, but Tsukishima glares him into silence. "And I doubt that it's good for your hand either way. So go back to practicing into your room, idiot."

"Aw. I didn't know you cared," Kuroo gushed.

"I changed my mind, stay here and die of the cold for all I care," Tsukishima deadpans.

Kuroo laughs, the fucker. "Okay, okay, I'll go back up. Tell me if I really bother you again, though."

"Don't worry, I will."

Kuroo laughs again as he stands up and gather his papers. "I don't doubt that."

He almost runs into Hinata when he steps out, and gives them both a mock-salute before leaving. Tsukishima is immediately alerted by the twinkle in Hinata's eye and the way his mouth is stretching into a terrifying smile.

"So," he starts.

"No."

"Your Kuroo looks pretty good."

" _My_ Kuroo?"

"And you like him."

"I have no idea what led you to that conclusion," Tsukishima scoffs. "Did you find the pump?"

"Nope," Hinata shrugs. "I'll ask Yamaguchi tomorrow."

"Oh, so you can come and annoy me in the middle of the night, but not Yamaguchi?"

"Don't act like you're ever asleep by now," Hinata snorts. "Also, you're not escaping the topic of Kuroo."

"There is nothing to discuss," Tsukishima declares, pushing Hinata before him to make him leave. "And give me my keys back."

"Not until you've told me eeeeeeeeeverything."

Tsukishima needs new friends. Right now.

"Come on," Hinata insists. "You keep talking about him, and your shit manners make him laugh. There's something here."

"My manners aren't shit," Tsukishima counters with an eyeroll. "And do you want to talk about _your_ glaring crush on Tanaka?"

Hinata splutters, taken by surprise. "I don't- I mean- I-"

"I'm guessing that's a no, then?" Tsukishima states.

He holds his hand out and Hinata slams the keys in it, with maybe more force than necessary.

" _Fine_ ," he grumbles, "but the fact that you're defending yourself like that means that I'm right!"

"Whatever, asshole."

"Love you too," Hinata replies, blowing him a kiss. "See you tomorrow!"

He darts out before Tsukishima can reach him, and then Tsukishima is alone in the cold basement. Not really his favorite setting.

He makes sure the door to his storage space is closed before getting out, and if his cheeks still feel hot it's because of the difference in temperature, and certainly not embarrassment.

* * *

Damn Hinata. Damn, fucking Hinata.

Tsukishima would be mad at him if he wasn't too busy _obsessing_ over his neighbor. Because Hinata, this little shit, was right. He's met the guy three times, and he likes him. He is _so_ fucked.  
He's not even sure why. Sure, he's attractive, and he isn't scared away when Tsukishima is being rude or sarcastic, and he's got a nice smile, but -

Obsessing. He can't believe it. He _especially_ can't believe he's here now, in the middle of the afternoon on Saturday, knocking on Kuroo's door, and it's not even to complain about the noise – it's been some time since he's heard anything truly horrendous, anyway, so he guesses Kuroo's hand is on its way to complete recovery.

"Oh, hey," Kuroo greets him. "Need anything?"

"No," Tsukishima replies, maybe a little too terse. He clears his throat and starts again. "I mean, I was wondering if you wanted to come over later."

"Come over?" Kuroo repeats, obviously perplex.

"To have company while you play," Tsukihima clarifies, hoping his face isn't getting red.

Kuroo smirks. "Trying to lure me so you can get rid of me?"

"You saw right through me," Tsukishima deadpans. "I've been trying to find the perfect recipe for hemlock cookies and I thought I'd try them on you."

Kuroo laughs, and seems to muse over the proposition for a while. "Why not. When do you want me to come?"

Tsukishima shrugs in answer. He doesn't really have plans for today. "Whenever you're ready."

"Okay. Thank you."

His smile is a little brighter, and Tsukishima has to force himself to pull away and stop staring. He stumbles home and wonders if he's just doomed himself.

Kuroo knocks around eight. Tsukishima has made sure not to put on his headphones for once, to be sure to hear it, and he gets up almost immediately, sending his pens flying accidentally. He sighs and decides it can wait; instead, he pulls the door open.

Kuroo is still wearing the same kind of clothes, worn but probably comfortable, like he doesn't really care about what Tsukishima sees. Then again, it's not like he can impress him much after their first encounters, or like Tsukishima has dressed up any more than him. It makes the whole thing seem less intimidating, if he's honest, and he welcomes the feeling.

"Hope I'm not disturbing you," Kuroo says by way of greeting.

"I'm the one who told you to come," Tsukishima points out, stepping aside to let him come in.

Kuroo shows his violin case, and a thick binder which Tsukishima can only assume is holding his sheet music. "Where can I set up?"

"Anywhere you want, just leave me my space on the table."

It's not like the apartment is big enough for Kuroo to go very far from it, though. In the end, he carefully arranges his sheets so they don't cover Tsukishima's textbooks, and sits across him, preparing his violin. Tsukishima looks at him for a while, curious, but ducks the moment Kuroo turns his eyes on him.

"Can I ask a favor?"

"Depends on the favor," Tsukishima replies, keeping an eye on the line he'd been reading.

"Can you tell me when something sounds off?" Kuroo asks, and when Tsukishima looks up, his eyes are fixed on him.

He fights the nervous urge to tap on the table. "Can't you tell yourself?"

"It's not easy, so it's good to have another ear who listens too," Kuroo explains, idly turning the bow between his fingers.

Tsukishima can't decide if he's bullshitting him or not. Then again, what would he gain by lying? Make Tsukishima listen? He's right there, it's not like he could ignore him.

"Alright, then," Tsukishima replies, before diving into his books again.

It takes a minute before he hears the first sound. Kuroo stars with short successions of notes, like he's getting reacquainted with his instrument. It's not harmonious, but it's not too bad to listen to either. Tsukishima turns a page, another, a third, as he listens to Kuroo's exercises.

And then he starts really practicing.

It's short pieces, parts of longer songs, and almost too loud in the narrow space of the three rooms that comprise Tsukishima's apartment; and it's clear and pretty, and it helps Tsukishima focus. He even starts writing his notes almost in rhythm with Kuroo's violin, abruptly breaking off in the middle of a word when Kuroo's hand slips and makes a mess of the music. He looks at Kuroo and raises and eyebrow, but Kuroo is already grimacing back at him. "Yeah, I know, that was off."

Tsukishima can't help but smile a little.

They're mostly silent. Tsukishima would have pegged Kuroo as the talkative kind, but he's entirely focused on his practice, and apart from a few grumbles here and there directed at his sheet music, not a word is spoken. Tsukishima could almost forget Kuroo’s there, if he wasn't so hyperaware of how close they are. If he moved his leg right, just a few centimeters…

Kuroo sighs and puts down his violin. "I think I'm done for today."

Tsukishima glances at his phone. "It's not even midnight. Here I thought you were going to keep going all night," he comments.

Kuroo grins. "Why, do you want me to stay?"

Tsukishima's pen stops a few millimeters away from the paper, and he freezes.  
He can hear Kuroo's smile falling in his next words. "I mean, I should- it wasn't-"

"Yeah," Tsukishima exhales, meeting Kuroo's eyes as he grips his pen.

Kuroo swallows. He's holding on to his violin like a lifeline, and it's a miracle he hasn't crushed it.

"Yeah?"

"Yeah, I want you to stay."

"Oh."

Tsukishima thinks he's shaking. He doesn't want to make sure. Kuroo seems at a loss for a while, and the silence between them, for the first time this evening, is heavy.

"Need help with your homework?" Kuroo eventually says, picking at his sleeves.

"Unless you're an expert in history, I don't think you can help," Tsukishima stated. "What do you even study, by the way?"

"Chemistry," and, well, that's unexpected.

"Not music?"

Kuroo snorts. "Dude, that's way too expensive for me."

"You seem to devote a lot of your time to it, though."

"It's my passion," Kuroo says simply. "I like science too, and it at least provides me with an alternative if music doesn't work out for me professionally, but music is what I love."

Tsukishima glances at his books. They weren't all that interesting to begin with, he decides.

"What kind of music?" he asks, unlocking his phone and starting to scroll through his songs.

Kuroo smiles; but it's not smug, or a little bit mocking, or amused. He looks genuinely excited, and Tsukishima's heart is doing acrobatics in his chest. "Do you know what you just got into? You're going to want to kick me out."

Tsukishima knows he's smiling exactly the same way. "Try me."

* * *

It becomes a regular occurrence. Some evenings Kuroo isn't there, still practicing or out with friends ("Yes, I have friends. You're the recluse here, not me."), some days it's Tsukishima who crashes on someone else's couch. They've exchanged numbers to tell each other not to expect company on those nights, and Kuroo texts at least four times a day about the most random things. Tsukishima tries to deny it when Yamaguchi asks, but he always ends up replying.

When they're both home, though, it's almost inevitable that they'll end up in the same apartment. Kuroo's isn't all that different. It's the same layout, and they apparently have similar ideas in how to organize their spaces. It's also a lot messier, though he still manages to keep it clean. Tsukishima usually has to move a few things before he can sit down.

They talk, not just about music. It goes from food to traveling to family and friends – there's a casual coming out to each other that gets lost under the rest, too. Tsukishima likes it. He likes the discussions and Kuroo's humor, sometimes as dry as his, and the silence in between, too, where they just exist together like it's the most natural thing in the world.

It's comfortable _._ Kuroo still sometimes plays in the middle of the night, but knowing his schedule now, Tsukishima usually lets it slide.

"My hand is almost completely healed, now," Kuroo announces one day in the middle of his practice, holding up said hand for a high five.

Tsukishima completely ignores it. "Good for you."

"I'm playing as a regular again, too," Kuroo adds with bright eyes, lowering his hand. "This week-end, actually."

"So soon?"

"Have to start at some point." Kuroo stops and bites his lips absently, tapping on his violin. "Do you want to come?"

"Yes." He doesn't even have to think – he's been curious to see Kuroo in a concert from the start.

"Oh. Good," Kuroo says. He almost looks surprised, for a second. "I'll text you the address when I find the paper where I wrote it."

"You don't even remember where you're going to perform?" Tsukishima notes with a touch of judgment.

"Bokuto is taking me there, okay, I'm not gonna get lost on the way."

"Is _he_?"

"Good question."

* * *

It so happens that the person who lives closest to the location is Kageyama. Tsukishima doesn't really have a choice, since the place of the concert is pretty much on the other side of the city. They spend the evening mostly in silence; they tend to fight when they talk alone. Which is sometimes a good distraction for both of them, but Tsukishima can't afford to get dragged into hours-long arguments tonight.

Kageyama helps him getting dressed – it's formal dress and, for some reason, Kageyama is the person most skilled at handling ties in Tsukishima's social group. Talk about weird talents.

"There, you look presentable," Kageyama declares, stepping back. "Nobody should run the other way when they see you."

"You can talk," Tsukishima mumbles back, adjusting his clothes nervously.

"Are you coming back tonight?" Kageyama offered his couch for him, but he looks like he's genuinely unsure of the answer.

"Why wouldn't I?" Tsukishima asks, confused.

Kageyama crosses his arms and huffs. "Aren't you going to see that guy you like? You might stay with him."

"He's my neighbor," Tsukishima snipes. "I'm pretty sure he's doing the same thing as me and sleeping at a friend's."

"If you say so," Kageyama shrugs, as sincere as ever. "Just text me if you don't intend to come back, I don't want to stay up all night and wait for you for nothing."

Tsukishima rolls his eyes and checks how he looks one last time before leaving.

He walks to the concert hall. It's a small one, that also doubles as theater and place for communal meetings, but it's nice and well-lit, and the seats are pretty comfortable. He buys his ticket, finds his seat, and then he doesn't have much more to do than wait. There are people spilling in the room, and soon it's crowded, everyone trying to find their seat and stepping on each others in the process. Tsukishima waits for it to pass, hoping nobody tries to engage conversation with him.

Then the musicians start to appear on stage, each taking their place, and the room quiets down. Tsukishima immediately places Kuroo, with his mop of hair impossible to tame, even for formal events. He's on the front right, and he glances at the public several times while preparing his instrument. Tsukishima locks eyes with him when he takes a last look, and from his seat, he can see the way Kuroo grins, bow ready to play.

The music fills the air peacefully, a nice contrast to the seating chaos, and Tsukishima closes his eyes to appreciate it without distraction. He recognizes some of the parts, having heard Kuroo repeat them again and again and again until they sounded exactly like he wanted them to, and he enjoys them as much as the ones he's never heard, losing himself in the music.

His mind wanders to the time he's spent with Kuroo to the sound of his violin – the afternoons, and evenings, and sometimes early mornings. He remembers how soft Kuroo looks in the light of the new day, despite being the grumpiest person in the morning Tsukishima has ever encountered, including himself. How warm he was, when they just sat on the bed and watched shit to laugh at for hours after a few particularly exhausting days. How much he wanted to kiss him.

He opens his eyes, brutally brought back to reality and frozen in place. The orchestra is still playing, but he isn't really listening anymore.

This is getting out of hand. He itches to get up and walk out, to follow his instinct and flee. He could probably find a way to avoid Kuroo forever, right? And it would be easier. Not simpler, but easier.

But it's been good, with Kuroo. It's easy, to be with him, and he thinks it would probably be easy to fall in love, too.

So Tsukishima forces himself to watch and listen until the end, with his hands curled nervously on his thighs. He gets up and applauds with the rest of the public, and he waits until the initial rush is over to leave. He doesn't particularly want to be trampled, and that way, he gets more time to think about what he's going to say.

He doesn't want to ruin the night for Kuroo, but he needs to say something _now_. He knows he'll lose his courage after.

He waits in the hall, watches as everyone pours out. It takes some time before the artists start to trickle out themselves, some of them throwing him a curious look, and it takes even more until Kuroo is there, walking out side by side with two other guys. One must be a trumpeter, judging by his case; probably Bokuto. He's talking excitedly, like playing on stage for hours hasn't tired him out at all. Kuroo and the other guy nod along.

Tsukishima takes a step forward, catching Kuroo's eye, and it feels nice when Kuroo smiles. He waves goodbye to the others and strides over to Tsukishima, stopping barely inches away.

"So, how was it?"

"Good," Tsukishima answers honestly. "You all seem pretty used to play together."

"A lot of us have been around for two or three years, now," Kuroo explains. He's still grinning proudly. "Think you'll come again?"

"Depends."

"On what?" Kuroo asks.

He's obviously expecting some kind of joke, and his smile falters a little when he realizes Tsukishima is serious.

"Are you okay?" he says, sounding worried this time.

"I- yeah," Tsukishima replies with a shaky breath. "Yeah."

Kuroo looks at him, almost examines him, carefully. "Okay."

 _Here goes nothing_ , Tsukishima thinks. "I like you. A lot." Kuroo's mouth is forming a perfect 'o', and he keeps going, his hands clenched into a fist at his side. "And I wanted to know if you felt the same, or not." _Or not_. It echoes into his mind.

Kuroo is speechless for a few seconds, and then he breaks into a laugh. It's not mocking, or mean, or anything like that – he's just laughing. It hurts.

"What's so funny?" Tsukishima bites, already feeling the knot of dread in his stomach start to morph into cold, heavy resignation.

"I'm not – I'm not making fun of you, I swear. You just beat me to the punch," Kuroo grins.

"Beat you to -"

"I like you too."

"Oh."

It's Tsukishima's turn to want to laugh, out of sheer relief.

"Good, then," he says instead with a smile.

"You could say that."

Kuroo offers him his hand, and it takes Tsukishima a second to understand that he's supposed to hold it.

"Oh, shut up," he grunts when Kuroo laughs, links their fingers nonetheless.

"I'd give you a ride home, but it's a bit far," Kuroo replies instead, leading them toward the exit.

Tsukishima nods. "I'm staying at a friend's."

"Me too," Kuroo confirms. "But I'm free tomorrow night."

"So am I."

"It's a date, then," Kuroo declares when they step outside.

There's almost nobody left. Tsukishima spots Bokuto, standing a few meters away, no doubt waiting for Kuroo, who's smiling so hard his face probably hurts.

Tsukishima leans in just far enough to kiss him right on the corner of his mouth, and Kuroo's smile morphs into a stunned expression.

"It's a date," Tsukishima agrees, stepping back with a smirk. "See you tomorrow."

He lets Kuroo's hand go with a last squeeze and walks away, raising his fingers to touch his lips. It tingles, a little bit.

He can't wait for tomorrow night.

**Author's Note:**

> [twitter](https://twitter.com/symph0rine/status/814824158735368192) | [tumblr](http://asexualkurootetsurou.tumblr.com/post/155162443679)


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